Harry Potter and the Noble Black
by Espiritu Invictus
Summary: Imagine if the Battle of Hogwarts ended in a different way: Many of those who stood with the Order of the Phoenix, including two people who originally survived, lost their lives. Two people that you thought to be dead are actually alive. The Wizarding World is still a dark and uneasy place as both groups move in the shadows to gain the final victory. (Rating may need to go up)
1. Christmas in Hogsmeade

**ONE**

Christmas Eve In Hogsmeade

The cold air nipped at her bare fingers. Hermione quickly gathered all of her books, parchments, quills, and other study materials and slipped them into her bag. She glanced around her office one last time, making sure she had everything she needed for the long holiday. Satisfied, she gave a flick of her wand towards the fireplace in the room, snuffing out its light and warmth. She flung the strap of the messenger bag over her neck and headed out the door, locking the office behind her.

She never got over that feeling—that feeling of stepping into a large but empty castle. This place used to be brimming with life, students running up and down the corridors, house ghosts playing pranks and screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, and professors trying to calm it all. There was precious little of that these days.

Things changed after the Battle of Hogwarts. Many students did not return, either dropping out of school all together or continuing their education at home. Some, especially those Muggle-born or those who had enough experience with the Muggles, gave up their magical ways and blended back into Muggle World. Others headed abroad to foreign schools, like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. When it came time for the first years to arrive for the fall term, only about a third of those invited showed up.

Still though, as ever, Hogwarts was an outstanding place for a young witch or wizard to learn magic. Many dedicated professors still worked diligently to provide the best education possible to all those who would come seeking knowledge. Professor Flitwick was still there, standing on boxes to see his students better, teaching his students how to use charms. Professor Slughorn was there too, bubbling up potions, while Professor Sprout provided many of the ingredients from her Herbology greenhouse. Others like Madame Pomfrey, Rubeus Hagrid, Madame Hooch, and Sybil Trewlawney were there too. Included among their ranks these days, was the young Hermione Granger—one of the brightest witches of the age.

She taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had tried to get Harry to do it instead, but he'd have none of that. So here she was, aged 21, as a Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry teaching her worst subject in school—well, almost her worst subject. She smirked as she passed Sybil Trelawney, the divination professor, while walking down the hallway.

"Going home, my dear?"

Hermione shrugged the shoulder that bore the weight of the heavy bag at her side and only nodded her head.

"Better take an umbrella. Dark clouds are coming this way."

"I'll make sure I do." Hermione nodded and continued on her way. After she rounded the previous hallway, she shook her head. It was clearly a bright and sunny winter day.

A few corridors, hallways, and moving staircases later, Hermione found herself at the Entrance Hall. Quickly, she shuffled her feet down the stairs, watching her feet go up and down. Just before reaching the end, she looked up to see the Headmistress waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

The tall and proud Headmistress stood with her hand poised upon the railing of the stairs. Today, she dressed in emerald-green robes, a dark hat, and a large gold ring upon her finger. Her stern face relaxed at the sight of her young teacher approaching. "Heading home for the holidays, then?"

Hermione looked down at her bulging bag again. "Yes, I think I've got everything I'll need."

"Good. Good." Professor McGonagall turned away from the stairs, escorting Hermione towards the door.

"And you, Professor?" Hermione returned the courtesy of asking.

"I'll be heading off tomorrow."

"Staying with your brother and his family for Christmas, I presume."

McGonagall nodded. "And how about you, Hermione? What will you be doing this evening?"

Hermione retracted her hand from the doorknob that she was ready to pull. She blinked for a few moments, just staring at the older witch. It was still strange sometimes for McGonagall to call her by her first name instead of_ Miss. Granger_. "I, well, I was thinking…"

McGonagall glanced down at the heavy messenger bag strapped over Hermione's shoulder. "The other Professors decided that since we don't have any students staying with us for the holidays that we should hold a Christmas Eve party down at the Three Broomsticks."

"Oh, but, Professor…"

"It's not a formal event—just a get together between friends. It's your choice."

Hermione blinked again. "Well, I…"

"We'll meet after 7. Potter will still get his dinner."

Hermione smirked along with McGonagall. "Alright, I'll see if I can make it." She grasped the large handle of the door one more time and began to push it open.

McGonagall helped with her the door and stepped out into the chilly winter air along with Hermione. The two women paused at the top of the outside stairs, overlooking the snow-covered courtyard. "I have a favor to ask of you before you go."

"Yes, of course."

"I've received some more complaints from the shop keepers in Hogsmeade."

"More?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, more items have come up missing in the last few weeks."

"Such as?"

McGonagall waved her hand two and fro as she rattled of the items missing, "The usual things: food, potion ingredients, tools…"

"Nothing valuable?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Not particularly. And this time, whoever it was left a block of cheese behind at the apothecary—payment, I suppose."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. It sounded like a giant rat for all she knew.

"Continue looking into it for me?"

Hermione nodded with a sigh. "Immediately after the holidays, I'll inquire some of the shop keepers about what happened. "

McGonagall nodded. "Well, off you go then. Hopefully, we'll see you tonight at the Three Broomsticks."

Hermione nodded back. "Right." She turned away from the Headmistress and continued on her way. The Headmistress quickly headed back inside for the warmth of the castle, and Hermione was left alone outside. The snow crinkled and crumbled under her feet as she headed home.

She could have apparated home, but this way was much more scenic. (Plus, apparating everywhere was the fastest way to gain weight, she reasoned.) Pillowy blankets of smooth snow twinkled in the afternoon sun like precious opals. The air was cold and crisp but not comfortable.

She walked a long ways in silence, admiring the beauty of the Scottish highlands, until she noticed something unusual in the snow. She bent down and examined the area. Tracks. They couldn't be any more than two days old since that was the last time it snowed or the winds picked up. There were two different kinds: one with what looked like a small heel and five toes and one with a larger heel and five toes.

"Bear, I reckon."

Hermione looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Hagrid! What are you doing out here?" She stood up straight.

Hagrid raised the sack he was carrying. "Doxycide. Ran outta it up at the castle. Got a Doxy infestation at the greenhouse."

"Pesky things." Hermione frowned.

"Aye, that they are." Hagrid nodded his head a bit then looked down at Hermione. "I best be off. Professor Sprout needs me." He raised the bag again.

"Alright, Hagrid. Take care."

"You too, 'ermione. You too." They parted ways and each continued walking, but Hagrid turned back after a few steps. "You goin' to the party tonight?"

Hermione turned back. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, if ya do, save me a seat, will ya?"

"Will do."

After walking a bit longer, and passing through the bustling little down of Hogmeade, Hermione finally arrived at her destination. About a stone's throw or two from the tiny hamlet, Hermione gave a flick of her wand towards the door of a small, but charming, little cottage. She waved her wand towards the fireplace, and immediately, flames kindled. She pulled the strap of her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Next, her winter wear came off along with her boots. She twirled her wand towards the tea kettle over in the kitchen area, and then she slumped onto a wooden chair in at the desk near the doorway.

She was home. Well, it wasn't exactly her house. It actually belonged to Professor McGonagall, but for many years, the Professor had been living up at the castle. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't bear the thought of staying in the castle any longer than she had too. She did stay in the dormitories of the castle while finishing up her NEWTs, but after that, when she was given a teaching position at Hogwarts, she just couldn't do it anymore—too many horrific memories.

Hermione looked up at the beautifully carved cuckoo clock on the wall. It was almost five. Hermione sighed and slowly got up from her chair. She had better get on to starting dinner. She poured herself a cup of tea and then began her work in the kitchen.

Within a half an hour or so, Hermione turned around at the sound of a small popping noise. Just in time, she thought. She had two plates in her hands, with steaming hot ham, bright orange carrots, and fresh bread rolls. She set the plates down on the wooden kitchen table and took a seat.

Harry sat down across from her and immediately grabbed a fork. Without a word, the two started eating their dinner. It wasn't until Hermione was through a few carrots that she started to talk.

"What are you dressed up for?" Hermione asked, noting the suit jacket Harry had on over his sweater.

Harry didn't look up from his focused concentration on cutting his ham. "Going to the Weasleys tonight. Aren't you?"

Hermione's eyes instinctively glanced over to the living room where she kept the mail. The invitation to the Weasleys Christmas Eve dinner lay somewhere in there. "No, I don't think I'll be going."

Harry put his silverware down. "Why not?" He looked straight at her with those piercing green eyes of his.

Hermione pushed a half-eaten carrot around on her plate. "I've got a number of things to do around here."

"Like what?" He asked. "Dust under the furniture, brush the cat, read the same book for the twelfth time?"

"My life isn't _that _pathetic," Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "At least I can cook for myself."

What might normally turn into a fight between most people became something to laugh at with them. Harry looked at his food, the food that Hermione made, and then picked up his fork to take a long and exaggerated bite.

Hermione faintly smiled.

"So what are you doing tonight then?" Harry tried again, in a friendlier tone.

"There's a Christmas party at the Three Broomsticks tonight. Lots of the Professors will be attending."

Harry nodded. "Sounds fun, I suppose, but I'd really wish you'd come with me tonight."

The mood fell again. "Harry," Hermione turned away. "…I can't."

"They don't blame you," Harry said. "They miss you."

Hermione closed her eyes as she sighed. "I just can't."

Harry knew this would go nowhere so he continued eating for a while before he spoke up again. "Would you at least send them a holiday card or something? They're always asking about you, if you're okay or not."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'll get something written up."

The two friends continued to eat quietly for a while longer. Hermione served leftover pie as dessert, and it wasn't much longer until Harry was giving her a side hug and telling her to have fun at the party. He apparated out of the cottage, leaving Hermione alone again. Hermione looked over at the clock. She was pretty much stuck going to the party now since she told Harry about it. Looking at the clock again, she realized that she'd have to hurry up and get ready.

* * *

The whole town of Hogmeade bustled with cheer and joy. Carolers stood on every corner belting out holiday songs and trying to out-do one another with louder and longer notes. Shop keepers decorated their windows with colored floating lights and paper snowflakes. Lights from the local shops and houses flooded the streets with a warm glow. Anyone who didn't know any better might think he or she entered the North Pole.

Hermione tromped through the snow a few minutes after 7:15. She was met with a loud cheer and sloshing butterbeer from raised glasses as she entered the Three Broomsticks. A small blush washed over her cheeks as all eyes fell on her.

"You made it, Hermione!" Professor Flitwick cheered happily.

"Happy Christmas, Professor," She said to him. She looked around for a quiet place with people she knew. Over in the second room, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Madame Pomfrey sat at a table with their drinks.

"The usual?" The barman called out to Hermione as she walked past.

"Yes, please."

"One butterbeer with cinnamon!" The bartender yelled towards the staff in the back.

The three women acknowledged Hermione's presence and motioned for her to sit down.

"Happy Christmas!" Professor Sprout began, followed by McGonagall and Madame Poomfrey.

"Happy Christmas." Hermione acknowledged them all with nods and took a seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your Doxy problem, Professor Sprout."

The Professor waved her hand. "It's a bit of a set-back, but Hagrid's got me all sorted out."

"Glad you could make it, Hermione." Madame Pomfrey smiled.

"I thought you might have brought Potter with you," McGonagall said before taking a sip of her gillywater.

"Oh, he'll be at the Weasleys tonight."

"Maybe you should have went with him," McGonagall said, matter of factly.

Hermione shrugged.

"Yes," Madame Pomfrey seemed to giggle. "I'm wondering when you and Mr. Potter are going to couple up."

Professor Sprout faintly snorted. "They're already practically coupled up."

Hermione sat with a furious shade of red washing over her face. "It's not like that…it's not like that at all…"

The two women across the table chucked as they watched how embarrassed the girl became. If only they knew. Hermione couldn't help but think of the incredibly awkward time she and Harry kissed and about how much they both stammered afterwards about how they should just be friends. Well, she wasn't going to be sharing _that_ particular piece of information with anyone anytime soon.

"Harry…he's like a brother to me," Hermione said, finally.

"Oh, then perhaps you've got your eye on someone else then?" The school nurse smiled.

"I better go check on my butterbeer. They usually forget to put the cinnamon in." Hermione got up out of her seat and headed back into the front room of the inn.

The door burst open, letting in a blast of cold air. Standing in the doorway was a giant of a man with thick black hair. He stomped the snow off his big boots and looked up at the crowd before him. "Hermione!" Hagrid called out. "Happy Christmas to ya!"

She genuinely smiled at her longtime friend and greeted him with a big hug. "Happy Christmas!"

"Where's Harry? Did he not drop by yer house today? I thought you'd be draggin' him along with ya tonight. I got Christmas presents for the both of ya."

"He's with the Wesleys tonight. He left after dinner."

Hagrid shook his head with a smirk. "That boy needs to learn to cook for himself one of these days."

"You and I both know that he'd be eating at Wizard Cheng's or the Leaky Cauldron every night if he had to cook for himself."

Hagrid let out a hearty laugh. "Aye, that'd be true." He threw his giant around Hermione's shoulder. "Let's get some butterbeers and nab a seat by the fire."

The night became much more comfortable as everyone sang songs, told stories and jokes, talked and laughed, and had their fill of butterbeer while sitting inside the warmth of the inn. She surprised herself, having such a good time, that night. All night, people had moved in and out, but as the fires started to die, the crowd started to dwindle. Soon, there was only a small crowd left: some of the teachers were circled up at one of the main tables discussing school matters, a few unfamiliar stragglers at the bar were drinking alone, and a couple was in the corner sharing a Christmas kiss. Hermione tilted her head to the side for a moment and sighed.

"I'll be fine!" A loud voice boomed with a slur. Half the contents of his large mug sloshed onto the floor.

"Hagrid, it's best we get back to the castle now," Professor Flitwick encouraged the half-giant to abandon his drink.

"Oh, he's in no condition to be apparating anywhere!" Madame Pomfrey shook her finger vigorously. "He'll have to walk!"

"Come on, Hagrid, let's get you home." Flitwick led the large man out of the inn, but not before Hagrid bellowed his teary goodbyes to all those left.

"I don't know how Filius is going to manage to get him back to the castle if he passes out," Professor Sinistra said.

"Well, Flitwick better have one hell of a levitation charm," Grubbly-Plank said.

Hermione nearly choked on her butterbeer. But as everyone continued laughing, it was then that the memories started to flood back into Hermione's mind.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

_"You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."_

Why did this have to happen now? Any little thing could trigger the memories that burned in her mind's eye just as sharp and as clear as if they were from yesterday. Sometimes once they started, she wasn't able stop it: there was the first day of lessons they had together, cheering for Harry in the Quidditch stands, studying in the library, fighting at the Yule Ball—there were lots of fights—practicing in forbidden magic in the Room of Requirement, spending Christmas at 12 Grimmauld Place, watching Lavender Brown hold his hand up and down the corridors, spending weeks together with Harry looking for Horcruxes, their first kiss on the night of the battle. Memory after memory started rolling in until a flash of green light came.

"Hermione."

Hermione jerked her head. "Huh?" The images were gone.

"We're heading back up to the castle." Professor Slughorn said with a slight hiccup. "Will you be remaining here or retiring home?"

Hermione looked up at the clock. It was already an hour and a half into Christmas Day. She stood up from her chair and joined in the merriment of saying goodbye to everyone. Her mood lightened again.

The crowd of teachers stepped outside into the cold all bundled up in their winter gear. McGonagall and Hermione exited last.

McGonagall tied the strings to her tartan hat under her chin. "It was good to see you tonight, Hermione."

"Yes, I had a pleasant time."

"Good. Well, take care of yourself over the holidays."

"You too, Professor."

One by one, the Professors quickly apparated out of sight, leaving Hermione alone on the doorstep of the Three Broomsticks. By that time, the streets were deserted and most of the houses and shops were dark. Only an occasional street lamp lit the way home. Sticking to her rule of not apparating anywhere within walking distance, Hermione started to make her way back to the cottage on the outskirts of town.

It was a peaceful night. Light snowflakes spiraled downwards from the heavens. Besides the crunching of her boots in the snow, an occasional voice or the sound of laughter could be heard in the distance. Hermione tucked her hands into her coat pockets and continued home. As she approached a darker section of the village, faint voices grew louder.

"Oh, look, it's that Mudblood again!" A voice slurred.

Hermione stopped. She wasn't sure if she heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

"He called you just what you are—_a Mudblood_!"

Hermione peered into the darkness. There were three men huddled together against a storage building with a collection of firewhiskey bottles littered at their feet. She didn't recognize any of them. The one who was leaning against the building stood up and started walking towards her. He seemed to be the ringleader.

Hermione took a step back. "It's late, gentlemen. I'll leave you to your business. Have a Happy Christmas." She turned to head back towards the Three Broomsticks.

The man gave a sharp flick of his wand. As Hermione tried to walk away, it felt like the snap of a whip hit her in the back of the leg. She dropped to one knee. Small speckles of red blood splattered against the white snow.

"Stupify!" She hollered after quickly whipping her wand out and spinning around while on her knee. She barely missed.

Lights started flashing wildly in the darkness. There were more of them than she thought. Another wizard stepped out from the darkness and started casting spells in her direction. She had better even out the odds, she thought. She aimed first for the most inebriated one and quickly took him out with a stunning spell. He flew back into the building and crumpled to the ground. That offensive move almost left her off guard though, as the ringleader sent another ferocious spell in her direction, giving her barely enough time to block. She gritted her teeth as the last spell nearly knocked her to her feet.

She spun around and fired off another spell, this time knocking the wand out of one of their hands. She couldn't follow up with a spell to take him out because more spells came her way. She blocked them non-verbally and fired off more spells clumsily in an attempt to catch one of them off guard. It didn't work. There was a small moment of ceasefire as all involved tried to catch their breaths.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione called out to them.

"It's your fault guys like us are barely scrapping by these days!" One of them hissed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Look, it's late, and we've all had a lot to drink…" She didn't, but it was obvious that they did. "…why don't we all just go home and…"

"If it wasn't for you and your filth, the Dark Lord would still be here!"

Her eyes narrowed. "Death Eaters."

"No, not so privileged, but they had the right idea—wiping your kind off the face of the Earth."

Hermione gripped her wand tightly. Thrashing a bunch of rude mouthy drunks wasn't exactly how she imagined her evening but so be it. Spells started up again. Despite the fact that she was outnumbered, she fared well against the three. She had one of them right where she wanted him, and she was posed to strike.

"Crucio!" The leader called out.

Goodness, not that. Not _that_ spell again.

"Silencio!" Another called out.

Pain that still seemed fresh in her memory from a couple of years ago resurfaced. The feeling of scalding knives pierced through every point of her skin. Her bones ached and throbbed as her body twisted and contorted. It felt as though raging fire pumped through her veins, but as she withered and writhed on the ground, no sound came from her lips.

The men circled around her, with sinister grins plastered on their faces. The ringleader continued to hold his Cruciatus curse on Hermione, his smile growing larger.

"How do you like_ this_?" One of them flicked his wand downwards. Again, Hermione felt magical whips tear through her clothing and slash her skin. "Or _this_?" He did it again.

The leader released his spell.

Though she was lying in the snow on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, images of Malfoy Manor came into her mind's eye. For brief moments, as the pain would climax, she wasn't sure which place she really was.

"Why don't we just kill her. I'm sure we'll be doing a few favors if we do it." One of them said.

"Nah, not just yet." The ringleader said. "I wanna make her suffer like the filthy little Mudblood that she is!"

Just as Hermione's vision was starting some back into focus, waves of horrendous pain washed over her again. Tears, no matter how badly she wanted to keep them in, came. Images of the men and the green flashing light of their spells blurred with her tears.

Flashes of red lit up the night. Furious movement zoomed back and forth in front of Hermione's blurred vision. Legs danced around in the snow as some sort of fight broke out. There were now four people before her. She raised her head off the cold ground as best as she could. One of the drunk men went down quickly with a spell. Another of the drunks came rushing towards her, but there was a newcomer standing in front of her. As the drunk rushed towards her, the newcomer raised his leg and kicked him in the chest. The drunk fell to his knees. Then then newcomer bashed his fist against the drunk's shoulder, knocking the drunk to the ground. The ringleader fired of a spell, but it was blocked up the newcomer and quickly countered with another.

From there, Hermione could keep her head up no longer. She fell back, her eyes staring straight up into the starry night. A few moments later, a shadow appeared over her, and that was the last thing she remembered.


	2. Out from the Grave

**TWO**

Out from the Grave

_Dark robes swished up and down the corridors as Death Eaters poured into the castle. Hermione brandished her wand furiously, trying to stop them from gaining ground. Soon, she found herself locked in battle with one of them._

_The metallic mask on her opponent betrayed no expression. He fired off some of the most horrible and gruesome hexes and spells known in their world, but Hermione kept her poise and defended herself well. _

_After a firestorm of spells and incantations, the Death Eaters started slowing down, being more cautious about pushing forward. She ducked as one of them went flying through the air thanks to one of Ron's spells. Oliver Wood quickly took out another. _

_Suddenly, the castle rumbled. Pieces of the tapestry above crumbled and fell to the ground. Hermione spun around to check on her friends behind her. _

"_Are you alright?" She screamed to the others. They seemed to be okay. They were just getting their bearings. _

"_AVADA…KEDAVRA!"_

_Hermione turned her head at those dreaded words. There was nothing she could do._

_A beam of green light came for her, ready to embrace her in cold death. She merely had time to blink her sweet brown eyes before they would be closed forever._

_But death did not come. He stepped in front of her. His strength quietly faded away as he fell backwards into her arms, lifeless. _

_She dropped to her knees from the weight of his body falling. "Ron? Ron? Ronald?! Ronald, wake up! Wake up!" She screamed at him. "Wake up, Ron!" She raised her eyes to the ceiling and screamed as counter-attacks sent by her friends whizzed over her head. _

Hermione suddenly jolted awake. She wasn't in the castle anymore. She blinked for a few moments, trying to get her bearings. Her eyes fell on the old worn out material of the green couch that she was laying on. Sunlight poured onto her face from the window just above. She was in her home. It took her a few more moments to realize that something wasn't normal about this. Where was her wand?

She shifted away from the back of the couch to look around the room. Out of one eye, she saw her wand lying on the end table next to the couch. From the other eye, she saw a man sitting in one of the armchairs, reading a book. She gasped and sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "Who are you, and what are you doing in _my_ house?" She shrilled.

He smirked.

She felt herself pushing farther and farther away from the stranger that she felt like she might fall off the side of the couch, but she kept her eyes on him the entire time. He was young yet he had a formidable presence about him. He appeared fairly tall, well-built, and grown up enough to have a bit of stubble. His skin was darkened from the light of the sun, and the scar that ran over his right eye and through his brow told that he was capable of tangling with dangerous things and surviving. His lustrous black hair was shaggy and unkept, just sweeping below his eyes. His grey eyes seemed to glow in contrast to his other dark features.

The stranger paid more attention to the book than to her.

"I asked you a question!"

"I must say that, you, Miss Granger, have excellent taste in books." He snapped the book shut with one hand and then looked up at her.

Hermione shrugged while her cheeks started to turn rosy pink. "Well, I'm quite fond of…" She shook her head. "Excuse me! I asked you about what you're doing here, not your opinion on my library! And how do you know my name anyway?"

The stranger held up the book and pointed to the sticker that read _Property of Miss Hermione Jean Granger_ on the front.

"Oh."

The stranger smirked.

Hermione's eyes glanced back to her wand for a brief second.

The man sighed gently. "Please, don't. I'd rather not tangle with you after the injuries you sustained early this morning."

Hermione looked down at herself. Her arms and legs were wrapped in bandages. "You bandaged me?" She noticed she was wearing a set of pajamas. "And you changed my_ clothes_?" She nearly choked on her embarrassment.

The man held up his wand. "I let the wand do the work. And it was dark."

"So you're a wizard then." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "That still doesn't explain how you managed to get in here. Do you have any idea just how many protection charms…?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." He said with a smirk. "But there are ways around things like that."

Hermione pondered for a moment then quoted a classic school textbook, "Protection Charms may be easier to break if the one attempting to break the charm has good reasoning or intentions for doing so."

"And there you go," The man said.

"So then, I owe you my gratitude." Her arms were still crossed. "But I don't even know who you are."

"And there's no need to know." The man stood up from his chair and headed towards the coats hanging on the wall.

"Wait a minute!" Hermione stood up from the couch. She watched as the stranger quickly dressed into his winter clothes. "You come here, break into my house, and…  
"And save your life," He added while slipping into his black work boots.

"…yes, and _that_, only to run away?" Hermione hissed.

"Yes, that about sums it all up."

Hermione turned sharply, hoping to grab her wand and catch the stranger off guard, but as her hand came down on the end table, the wand was already knocked behind the table from the power of a non-verbal spell.

She looked over at him holding his wand out with a stern, yet haughty and proud, look on his face. She stood up slowly as her brow furrowed.

"What?"

"You remind me of someone," Hermione said, cocking her head to the side.

The man lowered his wand, sensing that she wasn't going to attack anymore. "Oh, really? Who?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's not important." She sat back down on the couch. "He was prone to being a complete arse anyway," She muttered, rolling her eyes, as she looked away to fold up the blanket left on the couch.

"Now I'm curious."

"We're all just so curious, aren't we?"

That elicited a smirk from the stranger. "Have it your way then."

They were silent for a few moments as they looked at one another. The man before her was quite the mystery. Something about him gave off the air of casual elegance, yet the clothes he wore said anything but elegance. He wore a black trapper hat with grey fur lining, a short black jacket over his faded sweater, a pair of patched up grey khakis, and short black work boots. He held his at ease wand at his side; it too was dark, like him. It was difficult to see from that distance, but Hermione thought it might be made of a dark pine wood.

A faint popping sound interrupted the silence. Hermione's eyes flew wide open. Before she could even think to yell _stop_, spells were flying through the living room!

"Stupify!" Harry roared.

"Protego!" The strange countered. The force of the two spells colliding sent stacks of books and tumbling to the floor.

"Stupify!" Harry lunged forward, casting again.

More spells slammed into the bookshelves built into the wall. Books rained down on the stranger's head. The stranger quickly countered with his own spells. Harry took a blow to the shoulder; the spell knocking him back into the wall. Angrily, Harry quickly leapt forward and shot one of his own spells at the intruder. The coffee table came up and flew straight at the stranger, nearly tripping him. All the meanwhile, Hermione voice shrilled as she yelled at the pair to cease immediately.

"Expellimarus!" They both yelled exactly the same time, lunging for one another. Both wands flew out their owner's hand and landed in the opposite corners of the room. Soon, fists flew furiously as the two men tried desperately to overcome one another.

"Enough!" Hermione screamed. Something akin to a force-field bubble erupted between the two men, sending them both flying. Harry crashed into the wall again while the stranger slammed into the bookcases built into the wall. "That's enough!"

"Who the hell is _that_?" Harry demanded to know, while wiping the blood from his lip.

Hermione looked over at the stranger as he wearily pushed the books off himself. "Well, um…"

"It's none of your damn business!"

"Hermione," Harry ignored the stranger and turned toward his longtime friend. "Who is he?"

Hermione cringed. "Well, you see, I…don't know."

"Hermione! Why are you letting strangers into the house?"

"I didn't let him in!" She shrilled. "Besides, I don't need you to tell me what to do, Harry!"

"What are you—her boyfriend or something?" The stranger asked.

"No!" The both of them yelled at the stranger.

The stranger just held up his hands in defeat and let the two continue fighting.

"Well, does somebody want to tell me what's going on here?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I apparate in here and the first thing I see is you bandaged up and some stranger lurking around!"

"I wasn't _lurking_!"

"This really isn't any of your business…" Harry turned towards the stranger to get a good look at him. Harry cocked his head to the side.

"What?" The stranger brow furrowed.

The hardened expression on Harry's face softened within moments, making the stranger even more uncomfortable. A small gasp escaped Harry's lips. "It can't be." He took a step forward.

Hermione eyes darted back and forth between the pair. Did Harry think the same thing that she did earlier?

"Sirius?" Harry's emotions betrayed him. Sirius was dead. He knew that. Nothing could bring the dead back to the living—absolutely nothing—but there was something about this man that triggered the memory of his godfather.

The stranger clenched his fists, and his dark brow furrowed. "How do you know that name?" He asked, sternly.

Hermione came forward, stepping in between the two men. She held onto her wand, but kept it lowered. "Who are you?" She asked the stranger, gently.

The stranger closed his eyes and sighed while turning his head away from them. "My name is Regulus Arcturus Black."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How…how…is that possible?"

Harry blinked furiously. Regulus Black was dead. How was it possible for a dead man to be standing here in front of them? "You're lying!" Harry scowled. "Regulus Black is dead!"

"I thought so too," The stranger said.

Harry was still angry, but Hermione, intrigued by that statement, took a seat on the couch in the torn apart living room. "Please sit down," She said civility.

The stranger looked around at the disastrous state of the room. His civility and manners came back to him, and he graciously accepted the offer. Harry as well plopped down into an armchair and wearily sunk into it.

"We believed Regulus Black to be long deceased. Would you explain to us how it is possible for a claim such as yours to be true?"

An air of haughtiness came over the stranger. "I _am_ Regulus Black. I shouldn't have to prove my name to anyone. I am a descendant of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain."

"Sounds like something he'd say," Harry said, flatly.

"Humor us," Hermione said.

"Fine," The stranger waved his hand in a casual manner. "What do you wish to know?"

Harry shot up. "First you better tell me what you're doing here, and what happened to her!" He motioned his hand towards Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione put her hand on Harry's forearm to calm him. "He saved my life."

"What?" Harry looked back and forth between Hermione and the stranger. "What happened?"

Hermione began the story. "I left the Three Broomsticks the Hogwarts Christmas party ended. It was pretty late. I was walking home, and then some men started yelling at me."

"What did they say?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. "They called me a Mudblood. They said that it was my fault they were in the sorry state they were in. They were upset that the Dark Lord was defeated."

"Death Eaters?" Harry frowned.

Hermione shook her head. "No, maybe former Snatchers, but not Death Eaters." She took a moment to regain her posture. There were four of them. I dueled them for a few moments, but one of them, he…" She paused for a moment, feeling a wave on nausea come over her.

"He used the Cruciatus curse on her," Regulus spoke up. "I saw the exchange of spells in the distance, and I came closer to inspect. I chose to intervene after I realized what was happening."

Harry turned and faced Hermione. "Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm okay now. I'm just a little stunned, that's all."

"Why do you think they attacked you?" Harry said. "What made them so bold as to…"

"Or why the Cruciatus curse was able to be performed in Hogmeade, a village under spell limits put in place by the Ministry of Magic." Regulus leaned forward in his chair.

Harry turned his attention towards Regulus. "Why are you here? Why did you help her? Who are you _really_?

"I told you," Regulus' dark eyebrows hunched over his grey eyes. "My name is Regulus Arcturus Black!"

"Would you tell us what happened to you when you entered the cave and how eventually you came to us?" Hermione asked. "We know what you did. You managed to find a Horcrux, and you sought to destroy it. We all believed that you lost your life in the attempt."

Regulus nodded as he calmed down. "Yes, I knew that the Dark Lord had to be stopped. As I put all the pieces of the puzzle together, as I followed all the clues, I was certain that what he created and intended to put in that cave was a Horcrux. I tirelessly researched the magic behind this dark object. If it could be destroyed, then perhaps there would be a chance at defeating the Dark Lord."

"He's dead!" Harry snapped. "Why don't you just say his name?"

"I know he's dead!" Regulus hissed.

Hermione shot a dirty look over at Harry before turning her attention back to Regulus. "Please continue."

"I wasn't sure what would await me when I entered the cave. I only had the reports of a dear friend of mine…"

"Kreacher?" Hermione spoke, intrigued that the man referred to a house elf as a 'dear friend.'

"You know Kreacher?" Regulus about leapt out of his chair.

"Surly house elf? Yeah, we know him," Harry said.

Regulus laughed. "Yes, you know him! Is he alive? Where is he?"

Hermione couldn't help herself, and she smiled from all the joy and enthusiasm that broke forth in the room. "Yes, he's alive. He works over at the castle." She turned to Harry. "Harry, why don't you call him?"

"After the story," Harry said.

Regulus' enthusiasm died down. He sighed at the annoyance, but continued the story anyway. "Kreacher had been in the cave before. The Dark Lord took him there. I took Kreacher with me, and I sought to take the locket for myself." Regulus paused for a moment, trying to gain his bearings from reliving a painful memory. "I drank of the potion that Voldemort left behind, and that is when the horror began."

Harry remembered his own experience there. His insides cringed at the memory of having to force-feed Dumbledore that awful potion.

"Kreacher was able to obtain the locket after I had consumed the potion. I was so thirsty that I thought I would die without water. I dropped to my knees and put my cupped hands into the lake." He had to pause again. "And that was what triggered the inferi."

Harry shifted in his seat, feeling like he was reliving the moment.

"There were too many of them. I ordered Kreacher to leave." Regulus lowered his head. "It had been years since I'd given Kreacher any orders, but I knew I had to command him. If I wouldn't have, he never would have left my side."

Tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks.

"The inferi pulled me into the water with them. I thought I would drown and die—perhaps become one of them—but oh no." A knot of emotion balled up in Regulus' throat. "That would be too compassionate for the Dark Lord. Being taken under by the inferi was like drinking that potion all over again. I remained in a state between life and death, tortured with the memories of past, present, and…" He couldn't continue.

Harry and Hermione were silent for a few moments before any of them could even work up the strength to ask a question. Finally, Harry cleared his throat and spoke up, "How did you manage to get here then?"

It took Regulus a moment to gain the strength to answer. "I felt like it had been an eternal nightmare, like the Dark Lord's own personal Azkaban from which I could not escape. Then finally, something strange occurred. The inferi lost their power and sunk to the bottom. I was no longer in their grasp. The horrible images that tortured me suddenly faded away. It took me a while to gain my complete consciousness, but I managed it. I swam to the surface. I barely had any strength left in my bones, but I was able to find my way of the cave after a few days."

"That must have been the moment he died, Harry," Hermione said. "All the magic he had placed in the cave disappeared the moment you finally ended his life."

Regulus nodded. "That is correct. When I had recovered more, I secretly returned to civilization to see what had happened." Regulus looked down at his lap. "I discovered that almost 20 years had passed, yet I still barely looked a day over 18. I was trapped between life and death, in the Dark Lord's twisted spells, for near two decades."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry asked.

"I needed to understand what happened before I went around revealing myself. I suspect that most people would have thought I was mad, not terribly unlike your own reaction."

Harry nodded, agreeing.

"I see that you managed to defeat the Dark Lord, but I must admit that I am hard pressed to find information on how you actually did it. It also appears to me that even though you managed to defeat him, the world is not a safe place as of yet."

Both Harry and Hermione nodded. The war had not been as victorious as they had hoped.

"I think the fact that your friend here found herself on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse while in the middle of Hogsmeade testifies to the fact that those in power are not as virtuous as we would like them to be."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked. "Are you on our side?"

"I think that should be obvious."

"You were a Death Eater," Harry said. "Just because you had a row with Voldemort doesn't mean that you've forsaken all your pure-blood mania."

"If that were the case, I don't believe I would have intervened concerning your Muggle-born friend here."

"Yes, why _did_ you intervene?" Harry asked. "You don't even know her."

Regulus pursed his lips. Grey eyes darted over to the girl on the couch for a second before they narrowed and looked over at the suspicious man on the other side of the room. "Does a man need a reason for helping besides that it is the right thing to do?" He stood up from his chair, clearly offended. "From the moment I left that despicable cave, I have done nothing except train myself and seek answers so that I could reverse the damage that I was once a part of creating." He tugged on his coat, pulling it tighter around himself. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to find my friend."

"Harry," Hermione chided. "Please. Call Kreacher for him."

"Fine," Harry said. "But I think he better go upstairs for a while. Seeing him could give Kreacher a heart attack or something."

"Upstairs?" Hermione squeaked. The entire upstairs loft was her bedroom.

"Where else is he going to go? The closet?" Harry said, "Just take him upstairs for a few minutes while I explain things to Kreacher."

Hermione cringed. "Alright," She stood up and motioned for Regulus to follow her. She headed over to the stairs and slowly climbed upwards. At the top of the stairs, there was a beautifully carved wooden door. Hermione gasped the old brass handle and turned it. She led Regulus into the upstairs loft—her bedroom.

(PAGE BREAK)

The old house elf found comfort in scrubbing the marble hallway of one of the forgotten corners of Hogwarts castle. While this was his new home and he did find pleasure in working here, the elf still did desire frequent bouts of solitude.

As he dipped his hand into the bucket of soapy water, he felt his master calling him from a distance. Immediately, he apparated out of sight, leaving behind a half washed floor.

Kreacher appeared before Harry Potter inside a small wood built cabin that he had never seen before. He looked around at the complete disaster that blew up in the living room. Kreacher looked at Harry, expecting an order to clean it up.

"How are you, Kreacher?"

"Master Potter called?"

"Yes, yes, I did." Harry sat up in his chair. "I have some good news for you."

The house elf looked at his master curiously.

Harry didn't know how to begin the conversation. As he searched for the right words, he noticed the locket resting upon Kreacher's chest—the locket that once belonged to Regulus. When Kreacher and Regulus went to the Crystal Cave to steal Voldemort's horcrux, they left behind that locket as a fake replacement. Harry reached out and took the locket in his hand.

Harry's relationship with Kreacher had improved so much that the house elf didn't seem to mind Harry touching his most valued possession. Kreacher only waited for his master to speak.

"This locket has quite the story, doesn't it?" Harry said.

The house elf agreed with a nod.

"Kreacher, I have something to tell you. Regulus, Regulus Black, we all thought that he was lost to us…"

The old house elf was visibly starting to get emotional at the sound of Regulus' name.

"…he's alive, Kreacher. Regulus is alive."


	3. Back to Grimmauld Place

**THREE**

**Back to Grimmauld Place**

The loft of Hermione's cottage was spacious and inviting. The smell of chai and faint vanilla incense hung in the air. After finishing the stairs, Hermione stepped onto a red-colored, antique, Persian rug. Even before being asked, Regulus took off his boots and left them at the top of the stairs before stepping onto the carpet.

The room had a large bed, covered in a thick, plush quilt. Hermione walked past it, leading Regulus, to the other side which had two armchairs and a coffee table. Her eyes darted across the room, looking for anything embarrassing, like dirty laundry or her diary, that might have been left out. "Have a seat, please." She motioned to the armchairs. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

Hermione kept a small table upstairs with some teas and a kettle. She was completely adept at giving her wand a swish and letting magic do all the work, but making the tea herself this time would give her something to do with the awkward moment. She filled the tea kettle with water from a quick spell and then conjured a flame on the burner.

Next to the chair he sat in, there was a book on the end table. Regulus picked it up. "_The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_."

"Ah, yes," Hermione muttered. "Night time reading."

"William Shakespeare," Regulus pondered. "I've heard this name before." He thought about it for a moment. "Where have I heard this name before?"

"Well, he's regarded as one of the greatest writers in the Muggle world."

"Ah yes, that's it." He continued to look through the book.

Hermione set the tea kettle on the burner.

Regulus idly flipped through the pages. "Hmmm, Hamlet," He said. "Is that a story about baby hams or something?"

Hermione nearly doubled over as her belly rumbled with laughter.

"What? What's so funny?"

She couldn't answer him. For a brief moment, it felt good to laugh, but the pain from her recent injuries stung at her sides. She managed to calm herself down, but her sides still ached.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded, slowly. "I'm still a bit sore from last night."

"You should probably check on your bandages soon."

Hermione only nodded as she went back to making tea. Soon, it was ready and she served Regulus a cup and then poured one for herself. She joined him, sitting in the other armchair.

He was still engrossed in the book.

"You like to read?"

"Very much so."

Hermione took a sip of her tea before speaking again. "_Hamlet_ is a name. He's the main character in one of Shakespeare's plays."

Regulus wrinkled his nose. "What kind of name is _Hamlet_?"

"What kind of name is _Regulus_?"

"A good one."

Hermione chuckled.

"I'm not sure you're one to talk, Miss. Granger." He snapped the book shut and set it aside. "Where on Earth did your parents get the name _Hermione_?"

Hermione nodded towards the book from which Regulus had just been looking.

"Is that so?" After Regulus took his first sip of tea, he matched Hermione's gaze. "Thank you for the tea. It's lovely."

"You're welcome."

He took another sip as silence lingered in the room. "By the way, I think your name is lovely as well."

Her cheeks flushed a rosy red. "Thank you."

Silence continued between them as they quietly sipped on their tea. It wasn't until Kreacher's wailing from downstairs a few minutes later that the silence ended.

Regulus placed the teacup and saucer on the coffee table and stood up. "I believe it's time for us to head downstairs."

Hermione nodded and set her cup down as well.

As the two came down the stairs, they saw a house elf on all fours in the middle of the living room, heaving and trying to catch his breath. The old house elf looked as though he might explode.

"Kreacher?" Regulus kneeled down on the stairs and looked between the posts of the guard rails. "Kreacher? Are you alright?"

The house elf frantically looked around the room and scooped up one of the books that had been blasted off the shelf during Harry and Regulus' duel. He beat himself over the head with it as hard as he was able.

"Kreacher! Kreacher! Kreacher!" Regulus ran down the stairs and wrestled the book out of the house elf's hands. "Stop this nonsense!"

"Kreacher has failed, Sir! Kreacher has failed!" The house elf let out a great sob like a tidal wave. "Master said, '_destroy the locket'_, but Kreacher couldn't do it. Kreacher couldn't do it."

"Kreacher," Regulus said gently, placing a hand on the house elf's shoulder.

Hermione sat on the stairs, looking between the posts of the guard rails, at the scene unfolding in her living room. The house elf was still heaving and weeping, completely coming undone, before the presence of his former master. Trickles of tears escaped from Hermione's eyes too.

Harry bit his lip. He wanted to intervene, but perhaps it would be best not to. This was a private moment between Regulus and Kreacher, and he unfortunately just happened to be standing in the middle of it.

"Kreacher, it's not your fault."

"Yes, it's Kreacher's fault! It's Kreacher's fault!"

Regulus shook his head. "That…that…_thing_…it was the work of the Dark Lord. It was more powerful than we could have dared to imagine."

The house elf's cries died down to a sniffle.

"I asked you to destroy it, but I didn't understand the power that it contained. I'm sorry, Kreacher."

Kreacher could not be consoled. "Kreacher tried everything. Everyday Kreacher tried to destroy it, just as Master Regulus asked…"

"And eventually you found a way," Regulus said. "You gave the locket to Harry Potter and his friends, and together, you destroyed it. You _did_ do it, Kreacher. You helped destroy it."

The house elf still hung his head in shame. "Master Regulus is still alive. Kreacher left him in the cave…"

"Because I asked you to go."

More sniffles came from the house elf.

"You're a good friend, Kreacher."

A gigantic wail came from the house elf. Regulus took Kreacher into his embrace and held onto the little elf.

"You've always been a most loyal and true friend to me. I can never repay you for all you've done for the House of Black."

"House of Black! House of Black!" The house elf muttered. "There's nothing! nothing…tapestries…the goblin…goblets…heirlooms…that...that foul-smelling traitor…Fletcher,"

Regulus cocked his head to the side, trying to understand Kreacher. He looked up to Harry and Hermione in failure.

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," Hermione said. "It's seen better days."

"You know about Grimmauld Place?"

Harry and Hermione both nodded. There was so much to explain.

"It's still there? It hasn't been occupied by anyone else?"

Harry shook his head. "It's been sitting empty since…well, since, your parents…"

Regulus nodded, understanding.

"Sirius Black was my godfather," Harry said.

"That makes a lot of sense. James Potter and my brother were inseparable."

"You knew my father?"

"Oh, yes. He was a frequent visitor to our home—along with Sirius' other friends. Mother and Father didn't care for them much, but Sirius allowed them over anyway."

"The Potter boy and Master Sirius and their friends were always so mean to Master Regulus…" Kreacher spoke up while drying his tears.

"Kreacher, don't." Regulus waved his hand.

Harry frowned. He had heard similar things before. "Your brother…when he died…he left everything behind." Harry stumbled through his words. "Grimmauld Place, the Black family vault, Kreacher here—it all fell into my name."

Regulus pondered for a moment before looking to Harry. "Can you take me there?"

"You want to go there?" Harry's stomach turned. He hadn't been in that house since he went looking for Horcruxes with Ron and Hermione.

Regulus nodded solemnly. "Yes, I want to go back there. I need…to see."

"But Master," The house elf took a hold of Regulus' hand just as if the man was still a small child under his diligent care. "There's nothing left."

"It's not for that."

"We should go," Hermione spoke up.

"You're not going anywhere. You should be resting." Harry crossed his arms.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry sighed. "Fine."

"But you're both cleaning up this mess before we go!" She snapped at the two men as she waved towards the disaster they made earlier.

Harry and Regulus begrudgingly did what they were told and started repairing the damage that their dueling caused.

* * *

Minutes later, the old wooden door of Grimmauld Place creaked open. The smell of must hung in the air. They covered their faces, careful not to inhale the newly stirred up dust. They were in a narrow space, feeling the walls press in on them from both sides.

Harry pulled out his wand. "LUMO…AHHHGGG!" He crashed onto the floor and hit his nose hard on the floor.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione shrieked.

Regulus flicked his wand and the tip lit up, illuminating the hallway. "I see the umbrella stand still works like a charm."

Harry sat on the floor holding his nose. He looked less than amused from Regulus' light-hearted comment.

"I've always hated that thing…" Regulus was interrupted by the screeching voice of his mother's portrait. He jolted forward, almost out of his skin.

"WHO DARES ENTER THIS RESIDENCE AND FOULS THE AIR?"

"Shut that thing up!" Harry was not in the mood for her antics.

Hermione lit up her wand and held it forward, lighting up the rest of the hallway. "The drapes are still over it from the last time we were here. I don't know what else you expect me to do."

Regulus remembered that voice all too well, yelling at him for all various sorts of things. It took of all his willpower to focus instead of cringe. A normal silencing charm wasn't going to work on the portrait. His brow furrowed for a moment before firing off a spell.

A massive bubble surrounded the portrait, muffling the sound of his mother's yelling greatly. She now sounded like she was on a snorkeling expedition.

Regulus reached out his hand and pulled Harry up from the ground.

Hermione blinked a few times as she stared at the bubble. "That was brilliant."

"Yeah, do you know how many people have tried to get her to shut up?" Harry said.

Regulus let loose a small, bemused laugh.

Moments later, Kreacher appeared. He immediately noticed the large bubble around the portrait. "What have you done to Kreacher's mistress?"

"Um…" Hermione started. "Well, you see, Kreacher…"

"I placed the bubble charm on her for protection," Regulus said, matter of factly." He glanced over and Hermione and winked.

She smiled.

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Master Regulus."

"I thought you'd like that."

"Well," Harry said, glancing around the high places and dark corners of the ceiling. "Let's move on."

Regulus led the way with his wand held out. After a few steps down the hallway, the wall opened up. The dining area, the room where the Black family dined and entertained their important guests, now lay ravaged.

"They took all the silver. Kreacher, tried to stop…"

"Kreacher, you mustn't blame yourself," Hermione said.

Regulus reached out and touched one of the chairs. His fingers smudged the thick layer of dust that had peacefully settled there over the past couple of years. "This was Sirius' chair." He nodded towards the one across from that. "And that's where I always sat. Father was always at the head of the table and mother was always on the other side."

Harry looked back and forth between the chairs. He just picture the excruciatingly bored look on a young Sirius' face while his proud parents were pampered served by a multitude of house elves.

There wasn't much on the ground floor besides the dining room, a small bathroom, and the hallway. They began their ascent through the dark, musty house towards the first floor. There was much more to be seen upstairs. As they came up the stairs, their eyes were immediately drawn towards the drawing room.

In here, the tapestry of the Black family still commanded the attention of all who entered. Stretching from the Middle Ages and tracing the history of the family to the present day, the tapestry stood as a testament to the greatness and ancient roots of the family.

Hermione's eyes were fixed elsewhere. The two rotted, doxy-bitten sofas that she remembered were still there, facing one another. She called one of those sofas her bed for about two months while she, Harry, and Ron were on the search for Horcruxes. One particular night came in mind. She hadn't said anything in that moment—saying how scared she was or how worried she was, but he took her hand and held it. She was only able to find rest that night with his warm hand reassuring her.

"Hermione?"

Hermione snapped out of her memories. "Yes, Harry?"

"Was there anything the Order left behind that we should think about taking with us?"

That was a pertinent question. She thought about it for a moment. "No, I don't think so, but I'll keep thinking about it."

Regulus' steely grey eyes kept darting over the faces on the tapestry. His own was particularly captivating since it marked him for dead. "What _Order_?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Harry said. "We used this place as our head-quarters for a couple of years."

He only nodded as he continued to study the tapestry. Hermione came up next to him and started studying the names as well.

"Nothing remains," He said quietly.

She didn't know what to say. She only nodded.

Regulus reached up and put his fingers gently over his brother's painted face. "How did Sirius die?"

Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that Harry left the room along with Kreacher. "Early on in the war, there was an altercation at the Department of Mysteries."

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"It was then that Sirius lost his life."

"Who?"

She knew what he was asking. Her eyes immediately went to the dark and formidable looking witch on the tapestry. She nodded her head towards it.

"Bellatrix."

Hermione nodded.

Regulus pondered a moment longer before the tapestry. He then moved on and exited the drawing room. Hermione followed him. As they came out, Harry also came out of one of the bedrooms.

"Your old room is empty, Hermione."

Hermione nodded. It wasn't just her room when she stayed here with the Order of the Phoenix. She shared the room with Ginny, but she knew Harry didn't like saying her name—just about as much as she didn't like saying Ron's name.

"Are you ready to go upstairs then?" Harry looked Regulus.

* * *

There wasn't much to see on the second floor. While the master bedroom was on this floor, it didn't look much like a master bedroom with feathers scattered all over the place and claw marks etched across the walls and floors. The once luxurious suite became the home of a hippogriff named Buckbeak during the course of the war. This was explained to Regulus who, as the night went on, seemed to lose his ability to be surprised as Harry and Hermione continued to fill him in on the details from the last few years.

The third floor didn't contain much either. Harry and Hermione checked over the rooms, just to make sure anything important wasn't left behind. The only thing left behind up here were a few empty potion vials in Remus Lupin's room, probably once containing the Wolfsbane potion, and a number of Fred and George's experiments gone terribly wrong. Despite the decrepit condition of the house, Regulus still didn't like to see green slime all over the floor from a _Portable Swamp_ testing. Kreacher insisted that he begin the task of cleaning it up.

They moved on to the fourth floor. On the highest floor of the house, there were two bedrooms and a large bathroom. This is where Regulus and his brother Sirius spent their time as children. As they came up the stairs, Sirius' room appeared first. It was left hanging open from previous visitors to the home. Harry flicked his wand, as if throwing the light at the end of his wand towards the lamps. Soon, the fourth floor lamps lit up.

Sirius' room was a mess, torn apart from numerous ransackings. Still, some things about the room never changed. It was still decked in scarlet and gold banners, the colors of Gryffindor house. The bedframe and the wall above it were covered in magazine pictures, mostly of motorcycles and attractive women.

"I wonder," Regulus began as he quickly moved to the other side of the room. He rounded the bed and bent over by the window.

"What?" Harry and Hermione both asked, following him.

Regulus knelt on the wood floor. He felt around the floor for a moment then pulled up one of the boards from the floor. There was a hole beneath the floor. "Sirius' _not so secret_ hiding spot." He reached inside.

Harry and Hermione both bent over, curious to see what was inside.

First, Regulus pulled out a pair of motorcycle goggles. "I'm surprised he ever took these off."

"Where is Sirius' motorcycle anyway, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked over at her. "It's at the Weasleys'"

"Oh," Hermione said. It was still hard to hear that name sometimes.

Regulus reached in again. This time he pulled out what clearly was a silver picture frame. He started at the photo for a few moments but did not turn it around to show Harry and Hermione.

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments before Regulus spoke up. "I'd like to keep this picture—that is, if it's alright with you."

Harry nodding, motioning that it was fine. How could he really deny anything in his house to its last surviving member? "Maybe you'd like to keep the goggles too?"

"Yeah, alright," Regulus said. He stood up from the floor. There wasn't anything else beneath the floor boards. He stuffed the items in his coat pocket and continued looking around the bedroom.

After a few more minutes, they left the room and started heading down the hallway towards the last bedroom—Regulus' old room. Before they reached it however, a loud crashing sound erupted from downstairs. They got their wands at the ready. Moments later, a small popping noise snapped behind them.

They spun around to find Kreacher standing there with one finger over his mouth. The three of them leaned in closely as Kreacher motioned for them to come closer.

"Kreacher saw intruders in the house, Master. They tripped over the umbrella stand, and Kreacher heard them." He looked at the legal owner of the house, Harry, for guidance.

Harry looked back and forth between the members of his party. "Who on Earth would be here? More burglars? "

"Precisely at this moment?" Hermione asked. Her face grew serious. "_They_ must be watching the house."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It was a bad idea to come here."

"Why is this place being watched?" Regulus asked.

"This location was once used by the Order, but we had to abandon it," Harry said. "It was discovered. Someone must still be keeping tabs on it."

Regulus held up his wand. "Should we find out whom?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm coming too," Hermione gripped her wand, ready for action.

"Let's see how many there are first, and then take it from there." Harry looked to Kreacher. "Kreacher, keep an eye on them and stay out of sight until I call for you."

The house elf nodded then snapped his fingers and disappeared.

It was time to head downstairs and confront whoever was down there.


	4. Name Calling

**Four**

Name Calling

It was flight or fight, and Harry was never the type to run away. He gripped the handle of his faithful phoenix feather and holly wand, ready to confront whatever was down there.

Hermione held out her wand. "Hominem Revealo," She whispered into the air and waited for the spell to work. "There's three of them," Hermione said, seeing their images revealed to her in her mind's eye.

"Great. Let's get a move on it!"

Hermione reached out, grabbing Harry before he stormed off. "We can't apparate downstairs. They'd surely hear us," Hermione whispered.

Regulus nodded in agreement.

"Well, it's a good thing that I always carry _this_ with me," Harry pulled out a small purple bag from the inside of his suit jacket.

"A purse?" Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"It's not a purse!" Harry hissed a little louder than he meant to.

"Oh, Harry! You do use my birthday presents!" Hermione squealed.

"So what's with the purse?"

Harry shot another glare in Regulus' direction before turning his eyes back to the bag. He opened the small purple bag and reached deep inside.

After seeing Harry's entire arm disappear into the bag, Regulus finally understood. "Extension charm—I'm impressed."

"We've got Hermione to thank for that," Harry said as he continued feeling around the bag. "What's this?" He pulled out a Honeydukes candy wrapper.

"Oh," Regulus snatched up the wrapper excitedly. "They still make these?"

"Brilliant, you two," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ah, there it is!" Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak.

"Finally, something a little more practical," Hermione said.

Regulus pocketed the candy wrapper then put his hands over the fine silk of the invisibility cloak. "Incredible!"

"What's next then?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we're not all going to fit under it." Harry said. "I'll have to go alone."

Moments later, Harry gently walked down the stairs, holding his hands against the wall for support and straining to hear any noises from the floors below. It was eerily quiet for a house that was supposed to have intruders. Maybe they were slowly working through every room, searching the house for clues or maybe they headed downstairs towards the kitchens first. He doubted they would have left without a confrontation—if they truly were who Harry thought they might be.

There was nothing on the third floor. It was just as abandoned as the way they found it earlier. He slowly continued towards the second floor. There was nothing there as well. A heaviness pressed upon his chest as the anticipation grew with each step. As he descended the stairs between the second and first floors, he slowly crept downwards, leaning against the wall.

"Awe, there ain't nothin' here!"

Harry took one more step just as the voice appeared out of nowhere. It caught him off guard, and he set his foot down in the wrong place. Before he knew it, he was tumbling down the stairs.

"Oye! What was that?"

A furious stampeding of clunky boots rushed toward the stairwell. Harry rolled on the ground while trying to keep himself covered with the cloak, hoping that the darkness and his feeble attempt would somehow conceal him. Luckily, it did. Three men charged up the stairwell, brushing right past Harry face. One step to the left by any of the men would have sent them crashing right into Harry who was hiding against the bend in the stairway. Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief as the intruders reached the second floor and continued on without noticing, but then, he swore aloud to himself. The men were heading straight for Regulus and Hermione. Quickly, he scrambled up from his hiding place and ran up the stairs.

Spells started flying between the second and third floors. The intruders tried to run up the stairwell, but Hermione and Regulus heard them first. They fired two stunning spells, knocking the first intruder backwards and causing the lot to tumble down the stairs.

A crack echoed through the house. Hermione apparated behind the intruders and started furiously firing spells. Another crack—Regulus joined the fray.

"LUMOS!" One of the intruders screamed. All the lights on the second floor flashed brightly, revealing everyone's position. Wands were pointed in all directions.

Hermione was to the left and Regulus was on the right. They faced three men, dressed in whatever dark colored rag-taggedy clothes that they could find—coats, hooded-sweaters, leather jackets, torn up jeans. If it were not for the red ribbon band around each of their left arms, Regulus' attire would match up with their ranks very well.

"Still think there's nothin' here?" The leader of the pack snapped at one of his companions.  
"'ow I was I supposta know that?" He whined. "Easily coulda been rats er somethin'."

The leader had dark greasy hair, but his crooked smile was even greasier. Hermione cringed at the sight of his dirty, yellow teeth. She had seen some messed up teeth in her lifetime, seeing as it was that she was the daughter of two dentists, but this man's smile was by far the worst. Her stomach lurched—this wasn't a time to be thinking her parents.

"Well, I s'pose we did find ourselfs some rats." The leader said. "Scabior'll wanna hear about this." He cracked his knuckles. "Might even get a reward outta it."

"Scabior?" Hermione whispered to herself. A nauseating feeling came over her at the thought of his memory.

"Gentlemen," Regulus raised his wand higher, threatening to attack. "I suggest that you leave this place—immediately!"

"This ain't your place! Yer da one that's gone an' broke in!"

Regulus nostrils flared.

Spells fired off again. Regulus shot a non-verbal spell, knocking one of the companions back into the stairwell. The leader took the chance to fire a spell. Regulus spun his body to the right, dodging the curse.

The curse blew a big hole in the floor.

Hermione deflected the spell that came at her from the other companion with lightning fast reflexes. The green bolt of energy bounced off her protective shield and tore through the faded flower wallpaper on the wall.

The leader laughed. "Very good, Mudblood! You musta found yerself a decent witch er wizard ter steal those fancy powers from."

"Watch your mouth, or I'll blast it off for you!" Regulus snapped, pointing his wand threateningly at the leader.

Hermione glanced over at Regulus. "Don't listen to him."

The leader's belly rumbled with laughter. His eyes glanced behind his shoulder for a moment. "Yeah, ya better listen ter yer 'ittle slag before ya get yerself killed!"

Hermione gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

Regulus glanced back and forth between the leader and Hermione for a moment, not fully understanding what was said. "Don't speak to her like that!" He finally declared.

The leader continued to show his toothy grin as his eyes darted back behind him and forward to Regulus. He raised his hands with his wand in a surrendering position. "Whatever ya say, Master."

Regulus' eyebrows hunched over his eyes. "Just keep your mouth shut!"

Harry watched from under the invisibility cloak. There was no point in revealing his position just yet. He gripped the handle of his wand in his sweaty palm watching the scene unfold before him. Regulus looked so much like his older brother when he was angry, Harry thought with a smirk.

Regulus managed to calm himself enough to speak. "You're cornered. Lower your wands and leave this place."

"And dat's what you think! Now, Harper! "

Suddenly, the wall that enclosed the stairwell blew open. Large chunks of wood, brick, and plaster shot forward like a shotgun shell. One of the bits of brick cracked Regulus over the forehead and knocked him backwards. He lost his footing and fell into the large hold blasted into the floor a few moments earlier.

"Regulus!" Hermione yelled.

"Regulus?" The leader's face looked puzzled.

Regulus crashed onto the first floor. A sickening crack followed by a holler of pain filled the house. Dust from the blown plaster and brick wall flew in the air.

"Regulus? Regulus Black?" The leader said. "'ow cannit be?"

Harry threw off his cloak and started haphazardly firing spells through the flying dust. "Hermione, don't let them get away!"

Hermione snapped out of her shock and started shooting off spells. She couldn't see much either, only figures moving around in swirling dust. They were trying to move up the stairs and escape to the third floor. She'd cut them off. Quickly, she apparated up to the third floor. The Snatchers rounded the corner. "Stupefy!" Hermione yelled, throwing her weight into the charm. A blast of light surged out of Hermione's wand and collided with the Snatchers. The three of them took hits across the chest and smacked backwards into the wall.

Harry ran up the stairs. He came upon the three incapacitated bodies on the floor then looked around the corner at Hermione. "Overdone it, much?"

"Serves them right."

Harry chuckled as he gave a flick of his wand. Soon, the three men were bound in neatly tied ropes. "We'll take care of them later. We better get downstairs."

"Regulus!" Hermione quickly apparated out of sight. Harry followed.

Down on the first floor, Regulus damaged body lay in a pile of debris while Kreacher sat next to his master, beating himself over the head with a brick. Hermione appeared before them and then Harry shortly after.

"Kreacher, what are you doing?" Harry exclaimed.

"Kreacher didn't protect Master Regulus! It's all Kreacher's fault!"

Hermione wrestled the brick out of the house-elf's hand. "Kreacher, stop! You mustn't hurt yourself like this!"

Kreacher crumpled up onto the ground. "Master is alive, but poor Kreacher failed him!"

Hermione tossed the brick aside then knelt down next to Regulus. He was out cold. Blood trickled down the man's face from a deep gash over his forehead. "Kreacher, we need your help. He's hurt."

"Yes, yes," The house-elf sniffled. "Kreacher will help. Kreacher will help Master." Quickly, Kreacher set to work cleaning the blood off his master's face with his own pathetic excuse for clothing. "Kreacher is very sorry, Master. If Master wouldn't have forbade it, Kreacher would punish himself. But Kreacher already did punish himself some already so Kreacher really should punish himself some more, but Master forbade it."

Harry cast a strange look towards Hermione as he listened to the house-elf mutter quietly to himself. Hermione only gave him one of her looks.

"It's not as bad as I thought," Hermione said once the blood was cleaned up. She waved her wand gently over Regulus' forehead, snitching up his wound.

"His leg looks a bit odd, don't you think?" Harry said, looking at Regulus lower leg. "How is your bone mending spell?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, I've read about it…so in theory…" She shook her head. "I shouldn't."

"Awe, come on. You can't be as bad as Professor Lockhart." Harry smirked.

"I suppose you're right." She said, chuckling. She remembered how one of their professors at Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart, tried to mend Harry's broken arm after a Quidditch match. Instead, Lockhart removed Harry's arm bones altogether!

Harry held up the same arm that he had to have his bones regrow within the course of a night. "At least we know they can grow back if you get it wrong."

Hermione stood up, cleared her throat, and waved her wand over Regulus leg. "Spathula Emendo!" Slowly, the bent leg started to move then swiftly it cracked back into place. Regulus woke up, flying upwards with a yell.

"Master, be careful!" Kreacher put his hands over Regulus' chest. "You've been hurt!"

Regulus frantically glanced around for a moment, noticing himself lying in a pile of rubble. "I fell and then…" He reached up and touched his painful forehead. "I must have passed out."

"We heard your leg snap from upstairs." Harry said with a slightly disgusted look on his face. "Not a pretty sound."

"I attempted to mend your leg. I don't know how well…"

Regulus gently shuffled his legs. "I think I'm okay." He slowly sat up and regained his strength for a moment.

"We've got the three blockheads tied up," Harry said. "They're taken care of for now."

Regulus nodded. He pondered for a minute before speaking. "What's a _slag_?" He received his answer by the furious blush that came over Hermione's face.

Harry cleared his throat and tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I suppose you could say that it refers to a woman who…well…you see…actually…it could mean…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione said, red faced. "He called me a whore!"

"That flithy…!" Regulus tried to stand up too quickly and fell back down into the pile of rubble.

"Master!" Kreacher caught the larger man and helped him lay back down. "You mustn't get up too quickly."

Regulus held his hand over his forehead. "Yes, I see that."

"You alright?" Harry asked.

"A bit lightheaded, that's all."

"How about your leg?" Hermione asked.

Regulus shifted his leg again. "It doesn't hurt anymore, thanks to you." He then looked up at Hermione. "Any other talents I should know about?"

Hermione humbly shrugged her shoulders and looked away. "Happy to help."

"You're going to have to put some more of those talents to use before the night is over, Hermione," Harry said, darkly. "Those Snatchers upstairs," He paused as Regulus and Hermione turned their full attention to him. "…they recognized you." He looked at Regulus.

"How? What happened?"

"Well, your _name _anyway," Harry continued.

Hermione gasped and put her hands over her mouth. "It's my fault! I said your name when you fell!"

"And it's not like there are any other Reguluses wandering around Diagon Alley these days," Harry said.

Regulus reached up and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I'm sorry. I should have known better…" He trailed off.

Hermione looked at Regulus, studying him for a moment as he spoke to himself.

"Master, there there." Kreacher took ahold of Regulus' hand and patted it.

"We better get up there and change their memories before they wake up." Harry nodded towards Hermione. "That's another one of her talents."

"Hmmm," Regulus nodded, "A little frightening," he said with a lighter, teasing tone.

A few moments later, Harry, Hermione, Regulus, and Kreacher headed upstairs on foot, testing out Regulus' repaired leg. When they reached the top of the third floor, Harry released the three prisoners from the binds he placed on them earlier. Hermione took a moment to concentrate before she performed the spell. She had to think of a believable memory to replace the true events that happened here. When she was ready, she softly muttered the incantation and twisted her wand back and forth, pulling out memories and replacing them with false ones. Harry and Regulus watched quietly as she worked.

"There," She said, a bit down. She always hated performing that spell, even if it was for a good cause. "It's done."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said, knowing how she felt about that particular spell.

Hermione nodded. "They now believe that they stumbled upon some common thieves and had an altercation with them in which they lost. The thieves managed to escape."

"Sounds good enough," Harry said.

Harry, Hermione, Regulus, and Kreacher left the mansion and headed to the park across the street. Soon, the four of them were sitting on the park benches while staring back at number 12 Grimmauld Place for what seemed like hours on end.

"Why do you think they were watching the house?" Harry asked, breaking the silence that had lingered among them for so long.

Hermione shook her head. "They knew we used to meet here. I suppose they've been keeping watch on it ever since."

Regulus was standing, leaning against a large oak. He seemed unfazed by the cold. "I once believed that destroying the Dark Lord would bring an end of all of this."

"So did I," Harry admitted bitterly.

Hermione sighed, watching her breath float away into the cold night air. Harry sighed after her as well.

Regulus stood up from the tree. "I suppose this is where we say goodbye."

"What?" Hermione turned sharply. "What do you mean?"

Regulus glanced away. "I've served my purpose here today."

"I thought you were going to help us," Harry said, sharply.

"And so I have," Regulus said. "But now the time for me to go has come."

"So, what? You're just going to run away like some coward?" Harry snapped.

"I'm not _running_ _away_!" Regulus snapped back.

"Master," Kreacher uttered, looking lost.

Hermione gently positioned herself between the two men. "Keep your voices down! You'll wake up the entire neighborhood!"

"Sirius died fighting for what was right!" Harry blurted out.

"I'm not Sirius!"

"Clearly!"

"Harry!" Hermione snapped.

The scowl on Regulus' face could kill, but he said nothing.

"If you don't stand up and do anything, then you haven't changed a bit!"

Soon, a dark wand was pointed at Harry's face.

"What are you doing?" Harry held up his hands.

"Regulus, please." Hermione pleaded as she saw the anger in his eyes. She glanced over at Harry who looked just as furious. "Please calm down. Both of you are really upset right now."

"Master Regulus?" Kreacher gulped.

The howling wind was the only sound between them for a few moments. Regulus slowly lowered his wand as he found his words. "You have no idea what I've been through, Potter." He turned his back and began to walk away.

Harry let his hands fall to his side.

After a few steps in the snow, Regulus stopped, but did not turn around. "And I think you should know, Potter, that my brother could be one of the biggest arses you could ever meet."

Harry smirked. "I already knew that."

"It was good to see you, Kreacher. Please, take care of yourself," Regulus said.

"Kreacher is happy to see Master as well."

"Regulus," Hermione called, reaching out her hand, but he had already apparated from them.

Harry let loose a frustrated groan. "Unbelievable!"

"Master?" Kreacher's eyes started to water.

Hermione rounded on Harry. "You _had_ to start an argument, didn't you?"

"What? Me?" Harry looked frustratingly puzzled. "You can't tell me that you're not the least bit upset? The guy drags us to this place, we get attacked, and then he just decides to abandon us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away.

Harry sighed. "Look, it's been a long day. Let's just call it a night." Harry's mood lightened some. "I'll check on you tomorrow, alright?"

Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry apparated out of sight.

"Goodbye, Kreacher," Hermione said before noticing the house-elf was in tears. She knelt down and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll see Regulus again."

The house-elf quickly brushed away his tears. "Kreacher must be getting back to the castle now. There's lots of work to be done." He snapped his fingers, leaving Hermione alone.

She sighed and then apparated back home. Seconds later, she appeared back in her living room at the cottage in Hogsmeade. She waved her wand and the lights flared up. As the lights came on, she saw a big ginger cat sitting on the sofa looking very content.

"And where have you been?" She asked her pet cat, Crookshanks. She took a seat next to him and starting scratching the top of his head. He hadn't been home in three days, but that wasn't unusual for him. She sighed again and looked around the living room. "You've sure missed all the excitement around here."

Her eyes lazily glanced around the room. Hours earlier, the place looked like a tornado tore through, but it was all back to normal now, as if nothing happened—except for the small glint of silver on the end-table across the room. She got up from the sofa and headed across the room. There was a silver ring on the end-table. She picked it up and examined it. A family crest was engraved into the front of the ring and even the family motto "_Toujours pur_", as tiny as it was, was carved finely into the metal so that it was perfectly legible. She titled the band, look on the inside, and read the initials aloud. "_R. A. B_."

Once again, her mind was brought back to Regulus Arcturus Black.

* * *

The waxing gibbous moon glowed brightly in the night sky. The faint traces of clouds reflected the moon's light as well, illuminating the countryside. The air was cold, crisp, and numbing against the skin.

A man with gnarly brown hair, tattered clothing, and a red ribbon around his left arm stood among the ruins of an old farmhouse barn. Half the ceiling was missing, allowing the moonlight to pour inside. He exhaled, watching his frozen breath mixed with the smoke from his pipe float up to the heavens.

Three cracks, one right after another, broke the silence of the still night. The man didn't bother to look and see who it was. "It's 'bout time," He uttered.

"Aye, sorry boss." One of the men said, removing his wool cap out of respect. "We got caught up, ya see."

The man turned sharply towards the newcomers. "Nah, I don' _see! _ 've lost track uh 'ow many damn 'ours I been waitin'!"

"I told ya 'e'd be fumin'!"

The men started arguing amongst themselves.

The man with the pipe reached up and rubbed his aching forehead. While he was used to working with idiots such as these, he wasn't used to being up this late in the night. "'ould one of ya stupid fools tell me what 'appened?"

The three men stopped fighting amongst themselves. The leader began to tell their tale—they went to check on the old Black House, there didn't seem to be anything there, but then they found some robbers.

"And so we fought with 'em for a bit, but they gots the best off us," The leader of the gang admitted. "Really, sorry, about it, Mr. Scabior. Really, sorry."

The man with the pipe stood quite for a moment, pondering the story. His name was Scabior, leader of the Snatchers. As the Dark Lord returned to power a second time, Scabior cast his lot with Voldemort. During the second wizarding war, he served as leader of the Snatchers gang—a group dedicated to rounding up mud-bloods and squibs. He was just doing his part to making the wizarding world a pure one—being really good at his job was just a perk.

"Thieves, you say?" Scabior said, a curious note in his voice.

"Aye, boss, thieves."

Scabior pondered a moment longer. "What did they look like? How many were there?"

As odd as it was, the leader of the small gang didn't feel like he could answer right away. He thought about for a moment, feeling and seeing such a blurry haze in his mind's eye. "There were two of them," He finally said.

"What'd they look like?"

Again, the man had a small bit of trouble recalling the details, yet he was able to produce some vague answer after a moment.

For a few more minutes, Scabior continued to cross-examine the men, but seemed unsatisfied with any of the answers they presented. When he seemed to be finished, he merely reached up and stroked the thin beard on his dirty face.

"Can we go now?" One of the men asked.

Scabior shook his head. "You boys are comin' with me. The Dark Lady will wanna hear 'bout this."


End file.
